Personal Challenge: 100 Themes!
by Tight Hold On Death
Summary: Might be killed and taken up on in another fandom.
1. 94 ! REALITY

**THOD - **I'm such a fag, u gais. I was a little out of inspiration and decided to do this! So send in your OC's and some requests! This is more of a personal challenge for me, so don't expect anything awesome. Because I'm waay to idiot to do awesome, but I promise to try.

* * *

_**94 - REALITY**_

"It's nice," Kate said slowly, poking the ugly brown couch experimentally, "I like it,"

"Yeah," Helene threw herself at the couch, a cloud of dust spewing into the air as she landed.

Kate instantly broke into coughs and tired to wave away the dust feverishly, grimacing down at the taller teen as the dust settled around them.

"What was that for?!" Kate exclaimed, brushing some dust of her ratty old baseball-jacket, sneering down at her laughing friend.

"Why not?" Helene said with a playful grin, brushing some dust off herself and putting her hands behind her head coolly.

"Darn, girl," Kate stuck out her tongue at Helene and wandered further into the apartment to explore it thoroughly.

She opened the only other door in the apartment and mused into the darkness, hand fumbling around for a light-switch. She found it and flicked it on, the single light-bulb hanging from the roof flickered dangerously as it tried to light up the ratty bedroom.

"How much was this place again?" Kate called, walking further into the room and entering the small bathroom.

"Three hundred dollars," Helene hollered back, a sound which echoed off the mold-eaten walls of the small cubicle.

"Well, that's kind of expensive for this dump," Kate grumbled, crinkling her nose as she caught sight of the toilet.

Graduation was over. And the approximately one hundred and sixty 18 year old young adults had been released to the streets of South Park, whenever they wanted to go to College or start life didn't matter.

The two best friends Helene McCarter and Kathleen Dear had ended up teaming up and buying an apartment in the ghetto part of town as their next move. They'd chosen the one in the ghetto so Helene could keep an eye on her mother, and because it was cheap, of course.

"Ugh, I guess we've got some work to do," Kate yelled, and received only laughter from her lazy roommate.

Kate shuddered and went back into the living-room and picked up a box labeled 'CLEANING UTENSILS', something Helene had suggested they bought before moving in. Now Kate understood why she'd suggested it.

"Come on," Kate growled, "We're cleaning this dump up. You take care of the bed, I'll start on the bathroom," she ordered, carrying the box towards the bedroom.

"But I dun wanna," Helene whined, peeking over the back of the brown couch, "Kate!"

"Oh Jesus, girl," Kate barked back, placing the box outside the bathroom-door, "Just come on!"

"Alright, alright,"

* * *

Cleaning up the bathroom and the bedroom to an acceptable condition took almost four hours.

Kate's once straight, brown hair was tousled and covered in spiderweb, her baseball-jacket discarded in a box somewhere and her pale green t-shirt covered in all sorts of goo.

Helene looked just as terrible. Sweaty, blonde hair hung in her eyes, dull gray eyes reflecting nothing but exhaustion and annoyance. Her once black band shirt was just as gray as her eyes, same with her black jeans.

All in all, both girls was beat. Beat by reality.

"I need coffee," Helene groaned, and Kate nodded tiredly from beside her.

"Let's go..." she coughed lightly, "... to a cafe somewhere?"

"Deal," Helene swallowed the dust in her mouth and grimaced, "Oh, ew, I think I just swallowed a bug,"

Kate chuckled halfheartedly and rolled off the bed, stretching to her full length and drawing a few soft cracks from her spine.

"Too... the real world!"

* * *

The two eighteen year olds entered Tweak's Coffee House, dragging their feet after themselves and practically collapsing by the counter. Neither of the two had bothered cleaning up, which got them a few disgusted looks as they passed through the streets.

"Helene...? And Kate," Stan Marsh said from the table beside the counter, where he sat comfortably with some of their old classmates.

"Stan," Kate whined pathetically as she collapsed on the free seat beside Kyle Broflovski, whom only shot her an amused look, "I'm tired!"

"Nice to know," Craig Tucker joined in, taking another sip of whatever was in his cup.

Kyle had already gotten into a fancy college somewhere and was leaving at the end of the summer. Stan Marsh had gotten a football scholarship and was headed straight for UCLA.

Craig Tucker was leaving for some sort of music school in England. And Kenneth McCormick was going with him.

And Helene McCarter had gotten into South Park Community College.

Kathleen Dear had not.

Kate had told everyone that she simply didn't want to go to college and didn't apply for any, but it was far from the truth. She'd applied for over six schools, and five of them rejected her. The school that did accept her had - ironically enough - been bombed by some terrorists a few days ago.

That left her with nothing.

So she'd taken on to working at Middle Park Mall as a cashier at Hot Topic – H&M, Cubus and Game Stop had fired her already – to try earn her share of the money for the apartment and furniture. Her future looked very dark.

"Ugh," Helene grumbled and sat down, glaring angrily at the newest cashier at Tweak's Coffee House, "Stupid blonde girl,"

Kenny laughed and nudged the girl that now sat beside him, "It could be worse, you know,"

"O' really?" Helene deadpanned, grimacing, "Do tell,"

"It could be Cartman,"

"... point taken,"

NeoNazi in question had already left for Munich Business School in Germany. It was a miracle he'd gotten in there at all, but somehow, he did it. Cartman always did it.

"So, Kate," Kyle started, "I hear you're staying here in Shit Park?"

Kate shrugged, "Yeah... I..." she cleared her throat and made a face, "I kind of didn't apply for any schools,"

Kyle sent her a disapproving look, "I told you to do that, Kate, I even said I'd help you with it,"

"I know," Kate rubbed her neck, slightly ashamed, "I just... didn't," she finished meekly.

Kyle sighed and shrugged, "And you Helene?"

"I got into the Community College," she said, grinning, "With my grades it's a freaking miracle in it's own,"

"The real miracle here," Kenny slung an arm around Helene's shoulders, "Is how I got into that music school in England,"

"Nah," Helene slung her own arm over Kenny's shoulders, "It's not a miracle! You're a freaking wonder on the guitar, man,"

"Yeah," Craig threw in his own two cents, "And you're not that bad of a singer,"

"Aw," Stan rolled his eyes, "How cute,"

"Shut up Marsh," Craig whacked Stan's arm lightly, grinning.

"Sure,"

The small group of friends continued their conversation, not noticing how Kate's mood dropped right down to the floor as their only went up. The happier they were, the more depressed Kate got.

She bit her lip and glanced over at the rest of her friends, feeling completely shut out. They were successful. She wasn't. And it hurt.

Yeah. Reality was a bitch.

* * *

**THOD - **Boo-hoo. I'm a little depressed, kay? Anyway, send in your OC's and request a one shot! And enter the contest over at A Hedgehog's Tale!

'Till next time!


	2. 18 ! LOVE

**THOD - **I have no lyf, you gais. D8

Anyway, this is a KennyXOC one shot that my brain randomly spewed. Sorry for it being so absolutely lame and all but... ugh. Yeah. Laura McCarthy belongs to _noodle311_. And even though it is totally lame, I kinda like it.

* * *

**_18 - LOVE_**

Kenny rubbed his forehead tiredly though his parka and scribbled down some more words on the white napkin, gritting his teeth in annoyance. He could do it. He knew he could. He just had to... think a little, write a little, get it over with.

Harbucks was oddly quiet and a cheesy love song was running on silent repeat somewhere, the lyrics bouncing off the walls and hitting him like a slap to the face. Mocking him, telling him how terribly lame he was for not being able to write even a little letter to the girl he liked.

Usually, Harbucks would be freakishly crowded at this time of day, but most people were still at school, participating in the Talent Competition. Or watching the Talent Competition. Or getting drunk in some bar.

Why Kenny wasn't at the Talent Competition?

Because he was a fourteen year old boy in love.

That's why.

And the girl he was in love with would be there.

Grimacing down at the words on the Harbucks napkin he groaned in irritation, shoving the napkin off the table and watching it flutter calmly to the ground, as if it was simply making fun of him. Just like that bloody song. A stack of clean, fresh napkins sat innocently at the table in front of him beside his cup of plain, black coffee, waiting for him to do something that wasn't lame.

It was pretty pathetic.

Here he was. Sitting in Harbucks and beating himself up, writing love-notes and sipping coffee. If he took away the love-notes he could easily pass for one of them Goth-kids.

"This is stupid," Kenny mumbled, grabbing a clean napkin and uncapping his sharpie again, "Uh... _If..._"

The sharpie left squiggly, thin lines on the make-shift letter paper. Yet, Kenny wasn't happy with the words he wrote. Even such a simple word as 'if' ended up being totally cheesy and stupid.

He frowned and took another sip of his coffee, writing down another line on the napkin. And another. But whenever he re-read it, it made no sense. It looked... felt... _was _wrong.

It simply wasn't good enough. It was terrible.

Swearing under his breath Kenny grabbed another blank napkin and finished off the rest of the coffee, scowling darkly down at the napkin.

It would be a very, very long day.

* * *

Laura McCarthy rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she opened the front door, stepping out onto the snow covered porch. She shuddered as the chill chewed through her pj-shorts and t-shirt without much trouble, leaving her with goosebumps covering her skin.

It always was colder in the morning, after all.

She skipped down the stairs to the ground, humming a soft tune as she reached for the mail in the metallic green mailbox. Just like every other morning.

Laura wasn't expecting anything special as she waved a 'good morning' to her neighbor Kathleen Dear, whom looked three times as tired as Laura felt.

"Hey Laura!" Kate called, "Did you catch when school starts again?"

All in all it was a miracle itself disoriented Kate hadn't gone to school that very morning. Easter vacation had just started and Kate had missed the briefing of when and where they were to meet up when school were starting up again. It was a miracle Paul hadn't mauled her on the spot when she finally did show up.

"I think everyone but you did," Laura pointed out, "It starts in two weeks," she continued, "We're meeting on the football field instead of in Homeroom, though,"

"... why?" Kate scratched the back of her neck and pouted as she shuffled through her mail.

"Because there's some sort of surprise for us there," Laura shrugged, "Paul didn't say. Marko just laughed so it must be something big,"

"Ah, thanks kid!" Kate said and grinned, "Have a nice Easter!"

"You too," Laura called as Kate waved and shut the door, leaving Laura to her mail once again.

She shook her head in amusement and shut the mailbox and turned to go back inside. A loud crash and yelling broke through the morning from Kate's house, just like every morning.

Laura ignored it and started shuffling dully through the mail.

Newspaper.

Bills.

Bills.

Random letter to her.

Bi-

Laura paused and furrowed her eyebrows, feet still moving up the steps to her front door as if on auto-pilot as she turned the envelope curiously.

It said... well, nothing. Simply her name in curly, neat letters.

Still pondering on the envelope she shut the door and put the rest of the mail down on a small coffee-table inside the door. Why would someone send a letter to her? She couldn't remember any reasons why anyone would be sending her things.

The smell of fresh pancakes drifted into the living-room, followed by soft humming from the kitchen. The living-room's Grandfather clock provided a steady rhythm as she threw herself onto the couch, grinning slightly as she curiously tore open the letter.

A plain white Harbucks napkin fell out of it.

"What... in the world," Laura muttered, turning the napkin.

Scribbled words shone up at her.

_'If you were a wanderer,  
I'd be the trail you followed,__  
If you were falling apart,  
I'd be the rock you clung to,_

_If you'll be my night sky,__  
I'd be the starts that light you up,  
If you were falling down,  
I'd be there to catch you,  
_

_You took my heart,__  
And I'll be eternally yours,__  
Treat me right,  
And I'll be eternally yours,  
_

_If you'd be mine,  
I'd rewind time__,  
I'd show you the world,  
Without ever leaving your side,_

_I'm yours.'_

_

* * *

_

**_--SUPAH TIME SKIP--_**

**_

* * *

_**It'd been half a year. Six months since Kenny had dared to put that napkin in the mailbox.

Six months where nothing happened.

Kenny was dead sure the napkin had been forgotten and put into a drawer somewhere. What had he expected? Something to happen? Not like he signed it.

Shaking his head, Kenny sat down on the plain chair and sighed, starting to strum the guitar he was holding. He grinned halfheartedly out at the small crowd in _The Blue _from under his hood, a little unnerved. The cheap spotlight was focused on the small stage, on _him._ A few people were smiling encouragingly.

A few people were sipping their smoothies idly, watching him with critical eyes.

Lowering his hood Kenny cleared his throat, the spotlight shining in his eyes making the crowd look like faceless globs of black.

"Eeh... Hey," he begun, "I'll just... start now," he finished, grimacing.

Striking the first chord he took a breath, enjoying the way the sound fluttered around him. Nothing but him and the music.

_"A lovestruck Romeo, sings the streets of serenade  
Laying everybody low with a love song that he made__  
Find a streetlight, steps out of the shade__  
Says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?"_

_Juliet says, "Hey, it's Romeo, you nearly gave me a heart attack"_  
_ He's underneath the window, she's singing_  
_ "Hey, la, my boyfriend's back"_  
_ You shouldn't come around here, singing up at people like that_  
_ Anyway what you gonna do about it?"_

The rest of the lyrics seemed to float through the room, the crowd obviously enjoying themselves as some of them were idly following the beat with their feet, working as some sort of human drum.

_'Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap,'_ they went.

"_A lovestruck Romeo, he sings the streets of serenade_  
_ Laying everybody low with a love song that he made_  
_ Find a convenient streetlight, steps out of the shade_  
_ He says something like, "You and me, babe, how about it?"_

A wave of applause rang through the room as he did a mock bow and jumped swiftly off the stage. A few compliments were thrown his way, a few smiles. They appreciated him here. They didn't give a damn about who he was as long as he was a decent musician. And he was.

"Great show," a familiar, teasing voice complimented.

Turning his head so fast he was sure to get a whiplash, Kenny was met with the smiling face of Laura McCarthy. Her eyes were positively sparkling with amusement as she reached into the bag she was carrying.

"What...?"

She pulled out a slightly worn, dirty Harbucks napkin and grinned, shoving it towards him.

"Go on," she urged, "Read the lines you wrote,"

Kenny furrowed his eyebrows, taking the napkin carefully from her, "How did you...?"

"Some quick thinking," Laura shrugged, "Some... private detectives," she jerked a thumb towards a table behind her where Kathleen Dear and Kyle Broflovski was sitting, trying to be subtle.

"Smooth," Kenny deadpanned as Kyle looked up from behind his coffee-menu, grinning slyly.

Laura laughed softly, "No, not really, but it cleared up a thing or two,"

"Yeah," Kenny grinned and slung an arm around the younger girl's shoulders, "So, what did you think of my great poetic skills, then?"

"You're a walking miracle, Kenny McCormick," she said, smiling wickedly, "A real miracle,"

"True dat,"

* * *

**THOD - **Oh Jeebus I'm a cheesy bitch. And yes that super lame time skip thing was pulled straight out of my ass. Ugh. Shoot me.

Anyway, request a one-shot, request a one-shot! Max 5 per person! I do almost any kinds!

By the way, the song Kenny sings is Romeo And Juliet - The Killers. I don't own that. :)


	3. 33 ! SEEING RED

**THOD - **Alright! This is kind of a KevinMcCormick!OC one shot, but... yeah. Julie Haas belongs to a good friend of mine. Anyway, I have no idea why it is so gloomy. I just woke up from my nap and was so fucking furious for no reason. So I put on some screamo music and my brain spewed this.

* * *

_**33 - SEEING RED**_

Converse clad feet hit the trash-can fast and hard, a loud noise of complaint ringing through the alley and echoing off the crude brick walls.

The sound of a breaking soul.

A furious, heart wrenching scream tore through the still air, shattering whatever image of peace that had been resting on the shabby walls, cracked like an old mirror. The poor trash-can followed the dying scream, flying through the air with a mighty kick from the same converse clad foot, landing in a heap of rotten food a few feet away.

Once dull, blue eyes were brimming with rage, screaming death and bloody murderers at whoever unfortunate enough to push that little but obvious button to set it off.

Because over the last two hours Julia Haas had went for utterly heartbroken to nothing less than livid. At this point she was ready to do nothing less than manslaughter, nothing less than straight up murder. Nothing less than blood splatter on the ground.

And not to mention that getting Julia Haas this mad was surely a piece of work.

Usually so calm, collected and cool, never affected by anything. Never once seen loosing control completely. She's been in South Park for a whole of twenty years and had never went further than slamming a chair into a boy's back and yell at him. She never kicked. And she never vented her anger.

This was a complete, uttermost disaster.

"Julia,"

The enraged woman spun on her heel, fists clenched at her sides as she glared venomously at the one brave enough to intrude. She was met by the worn, tired eyes of Kenny McCormick.

He was standing close to the wall, an air of disappointment flowing around him as he sent her an almost pitying look. He knew the feeling of being betrayed. He knew how it was to want to brutally murder everyone to just get it over with. But he also knew how hard it was to think straight, to hold onto yourself. To not let the anger control you.

"You," she snarled, "How's your _brother?" _she spat, loathing dripping from every word she uttered.

"About as pissed off as you," Kenny said, picking his words carefully, "But... he's obviously ashamed,"

"He should be," Julia sneered, "The drunken bastard. He promised. Promised to not go off and find himself some cheap whore. Promised to stay with me,"

"And he couldn't keep it," Kenny nodded slowly, "But I don't think he knew what he was doing, Julia,"

"But he still did it!" she yelled, hands shaking in anger as the images from earlier that day flashed through her mind, "He fucking broke every promise he'd ever given!"

"I know," Kenny sighed, rubbing a bruise - which he'd gotten from his just as raging brother - on the back of his head idly, "And I'm not doing this for him," Kenny eyed her carefully, a little wary of the obviously out of control woman, "I'm doing this for my Ma and sister, maybe even for my father,"

He didn't want a shitload of new injuries, after all.

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?!" Julie hissed, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"You know how Kevin is when he's drunk and pissed off," Kenny took a step closer, eyes flashing to the dents in the once decent looking trash-can, "And he's at home right now, wrecking everything in sight,"

"W-"

"Just hang on a minute," Kenny interrupted, "He's wrecking my _home_, Julie, and you're the... well, the only one that can talk some sense into him. I hope,"

Julie opened her mouth to speak, but the somewhat pleading look Kenny was giving her made the words die away in her throat. She shook her head and cleared her throat, fully intended on speaking her mind.

But couldn't.

The words withered and turned to specks of dust in her mouth. Tasted foul on her tongue as she desperately tried to shape them and throw them in the frail boy's face.

Again she couldn't.

Every foul, angry word she could possibly think of seemed worthless. Seemed incorrect. Out of place and terribly foreign. _Every word_ she held in her mind seemed misspelled or mispronounced. It didn't even make sense.

Why couldn't she speak them?

"Please, Julie," Kenny said, stone cold seriousness glaring straight at her through those blue eyes.

"I..." she trailed off, biting her tongue harshly and clamping her eyes shut, wanting nothing more than to shut out the world with such simple actions.

"I... I can't," she finally croaked, "He... he crushed me once," she whispered, "He'll do it again. I'm not going to do that against myself,"

"He tries, Julie," Kenny said, coming to his brother's defense without a second thought, "If you help him... he'll get better. He's a freaking addict, Julie, how easy do you think it is for him?"

"Kenny... please," Julie mentally kicked herself for letting the positions get switched like this, leaving her as the beggar in the alley, broken and discarded of as a common toy.

"Julie," Kenny's lips twisted into a frown, "Go back to Kevin,"

"Kenny," Julie gingerly looked down at her hand, inspecting the two, thin scars running across her thumb, "I'm scared,"

Sighing irritably Kenny rolled his eyes, more than a little fed up with Julie's undependable moods by now, but she was as good as family. And Kenny was the one and only McCormick that bothered to glue the pieces of his broken family back together. He'd walk the streets, search the dumpsters and collect the broken pieces that was left of them.

And force them together when nothing else worked.

This was one of those times where Kenny McCormick had to be an asshole to save what he had.

"Go back," Kenny said, fighting to keeping his voice as plain as possible to not further aggravate her, "Make things work with Kevin again,"

"Seriously, I can't," Julie whimpered, feeling more and more like a scolded child with every sentence that brushed past those thin, frowning lips of the younger McCormick.

"I'm not _asking_ you to,"

At that, Julie snorted, "You sound exactly like your brother," she said, grinning weakly, "It's... I don't even know anymore,"

"Go fix it," Kenny nagged, finally taking the last step and placing his hand on her shoulder, making her meet his half begging, half ordering gaze.

"I... I can try,"

"I know you will,"

* * *

**THOD - **Jesus. I'm a bundle of angst and fail, ain't I? Sorry for the suck! And many thanks to you reviewers! You have no idea how huge of a grin you put on my face. You all inspire me with your reviews.

'till next time! Read and review and order your own one-shot!


	4. 9 ! DEATH

**THOD - **Another gloomy one. I'm really sad right now and had to get some of that out. So... yeah.

My family is breaking apart. Mum is running out of work. Dad is gettin' old and can barely work himself. I'm sick. Things are falling apart.

And I'm scared. Scared of losing everything I have, everything I love.

Yet it's shattering around me.

* * *

**_9 - DEATH_**

The dark mood washed down the walls of the chapel like the rain washed down outside, mirroring the mood, even though no one cried. They were past the tears, past the whirlpool of sadness. Now all that lingered were silence. Hollow silence that ate them alive and devoured their every sound.

"... and now Miss Monroe would like to say a few words," the priest said quietly, glancing towards the flag of the United States that covered the two coffins that had left everyone so speechless.

Left everyone in shock.

The thin brunette raised her head, dully looking up at the priest as she rose slowly. A dark blue flower rested in her hands, it's deep colour easily mistaken for black in the dimly lit room. No one spoke as her gaze was glued to the carpeted floor. But she turned and faced the small group of people after a few seconds of thought, wearing a unreadable expression as she prepared to speak the words that she had been thinking about for hours already.

"I... can't really put words," she began hoarsely, "On how this makes me feel. I... lost two great friends..." she trailed off, her free hand handing limply be her side as the words died out, refusing to be spoken.

Everyone waited, waited for someone to act and break the ear-deafening silence that fell over them again.

The one to act was Kenny McCormick. He stood up abruptly and suddenly, grimacing slightly as the lifeless faces of his friends turned to look at him. He walked over to Jude slowly and placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly, obviously arguing with himself as he stood there, eyes brimming with emotion.

"They were good friends to all of us," he said, "And our neighbors. Our family. There's so many things I regret not telling..." his voice cracked and he cast his eyes to the floor, regretting standing up and speaking, "... so many things we should have done,"

"We were going to go camping," a voice said quietly, followed by a soft sob from the same person.

A soft smile painting itself on the pale lips of Frankie Johnson as the faces turned to her, "She promised to go with us even though she hates it," she finished, remembering her friends childish pout when giving in and agreeing to come.

"He was going to teach me how to play basketball," Julie Haas threw in her own words, eying the cloth-covered coffins sadly, "Sometime this summer,"

"She was gonna move in with me," Craig Tucker muttered, toying with the plain, silver engagement-ring in his hand, a scowl on his face.

"There's a lot of things we won't get to do," Kenny nodded slowly, as if putting himself on slow-motion would keep his voice from breaking again, "And... there's nothing we can do about that now, but I'm sure they wouldn't want us to be sad like this,"

"They'd want us to go on with life," Jude agreed quietly, as if speaking too loud would set of the chain of tears that they'd all fought to rid off, "To remember them as the great people they were and live life for them,"

"They'd want us to do all the things they never got to do," Kenny tugged at his black suit uncomfortably, like the next words he said would cause the damage they all tried to avoid, "Want us to stop pitying ourselves and get moving on,"

"To quit the moping," Stan Marsh said, "That's what they'd tell us,"

A moment of realization blew through the stuffed room as they saw it in their minds. They all knew that it was what they'd be told by the two deceased soldier if they saw them sitting around sobbing, feeling sorry for themselves.

They'd scowl at them and shake their heads, telling them to stop moping around and live a little.

They all knew it. But somehow it only made them more sad.

* * *

They had all gone into war knowing that they probably wouldn't come back. Over the years the group had been friends those two become something similar to best friends. They had something the rest of the group didn't have, they had that special connection that defines best friends. And no one minded. Even though it drew some jealousy and anger from certain people at certain times.

But it was only natural that when one signed up for the army the other would follow. That was just how they worked.

They had all been left with injuries and wounds from the war, all left with the regret of not acting and saving their friends. And everyone of the soldiers that had watched it happen was practically living the memories again, watching the last memory they had of the duo on repeat in their heads.

Craig Tucker winced every time he watched his fiancé being dragged away, glaring furiously at everyone in sight. She kicked. Yelled. Swore. Even as they threw her to the ground and placed a final bullet in her she fought back.

Kenny McCormick was void of all emotion as he replayed the memory of them being attacked. Ever single one of them fought for their lives, fought to see another day. The enemy had managed to injure his leg and leave him immobile earlier on and he remembered watching it all happen from where Clyde had hid him earlier so he would be out of the worst fight. Behind some stupid, brown rocks. He simply watched with wide eyes as they dragged away one of his first friend and brutally executed his room-mate.

Stan Marsh was sneering down at the mud, trying to force the memory of running after them, yelling at the top of his lungs in hopes of distracting the enemy long enough for them to escape. Instead he'd been shot twice and ended up narrowly escaping with his own life.

Token Black sighed and rubbed the bandage covering his neck as he relived barely managing to escape from the captors vehicle. He'd been pushed out of by the soldier whose grave he was currently looking on. Every day he asked himself if maybe they'd both been alive if he hadn't escaped.

Christophe DeLorne frowned, shaking his head when his reckless and stupid actions came to mind. He'd thrown himself after them, hoping to knock out or kill the enemy and save his comrades. But all he managed to do was give himself a broken bone and a concussion.

Clyde Donovan fought tears as he clutched a bullet they'd managed to pull out of his shoulder. He'd fired the last of his bullets and managed to free Damien Thorne from those creeps, but he was sure that if he'd been a better shot he would have done something more. Something. Anything. Wouldn't have wasted six bullets on something that needed only one.

But they all got hit by the same wave of guilt and sorrow when they drew out the images of seeing the shot that killed Helene McCarter.

The brown mud that now covered the two graves stained the soles of their shoes, matched their mood and covered their friends. The rain that still fell from the sky soaked their suits, their hair plastered to their faces as they all went through those horrific memories once again.

Yet none of them left. Because those two polished rocks shone at them, screamed so many words. And it was still speaking to them, willing them to stay and listen to what it had to say. What it would forever say.

_Eva Helene McCarter_

_D.O.B October 31st 1994  
D.O.D November 11th 2018_

_Beloved friend and fiancé.  
_

_You will be missed._

Heavy raindrops hit the black rock that held her name, creating odd patters as it ran down it's side and joined the already wet ground beneath it. The bunch of flowers that laid on the sloppy mud that now filled the six feet hole had lost it's shine and beauty minutes ago, looking like broken weeds stained with the painful memories of war.

_Kyle Broflovski_

_D.O.B March 26th 1994  
D.O.D November 11th 2018_

_Loved friend and brother.  
_

_We will miss you._

It shrieked of failure. And accusations. The words carved into the light gray stone didn't appear real when they read them. It shouldn't have ended that way. When they had managed to break into the enemy's camp they found what was left of Kyle. Found the barely breathing redhead that had withstood four days of hell.

And every single one of the soldiers had at some point blamed themselves for his fate.

_'I should have fired the gun. Should have thrown myself after them. Should be the one in that coffin,'_

A clenched fist._  
_

_'I shouldn't have left, shouldn't have listened,'_

A shaking shoulder._  
_

_'I could have tried harder,'_

A defeated sigh._  
_

_'How could I be so stupid. I should have done something useful,'_

A bleeding lip._  
_

_'I was useless. Why didn't I try help?'_

A hunched posture._  
_

_'They didn't deserve this... I should be the one laying under that mud,'_

A deep breath._  
_

_'I'm a fool. I should have brought more bullets. Should have known something should happen,'_

A moment of guilt.

* * *

The girls watched from under the roof of the chapel, sitting on the freezing ground or leaning against the entrance-doors. They had left the graves for similar reasons, yet no one would admit why. Because even though the rain couldn't reach them, the guilt radiating from the boys surely could.

And it was like a kick to the head.

Jude was smoking, eyes trained of Stan's stiff back as her thoughts were running hay-wire, her dress ruffled and dripping wet, hair plastered to her face. She didn't know what to do anymore. Didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to comfort her friends when they truly needed it. Didn't know how to comfort herself.

Julie was leaning against the door, staring dully at the stone-roof over her head as she fiddled with the hem of her dress, lips twisted into a deep scowl. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything was false. Unfair. Unreal.

Kate was sobbing silently on Frankie's shoulder, the fact that her best friend for years never coming back finally having sunk in. They were both confused. Both crushed. Yet none of them knew how to say the words that could mend the emptiness that was hanging over them. They knew those words rested within them, but neither dared speak.

Because the wrong words would only damage them more.

The rest of the soldiers that had shown up to honor their comrades a last time had left. The shots had been fired. The final salute had been given.

And the flag had been passed on.

There was nothing left for them to do but gather their boys and go home. But no one wanted to be alone. No one wanted to pass the house they knew they'd have to pass.

Kate was clutching the flag she'd received tightly as she was thinking up every apology she knew, begging God for forgiveness. And out in the rain Stan was clutching the flag he'd received, his face set in the most serious expression as he was yelling at God in his mind, cursing him out for taking away his two best friends.

They all wanted to know why, all wanted to hear that little lie of it being alright.

Yet they all knew nothing would be alright.

Nothing would be the same.

Not anymore.

* * *

**THOD - **Oh Jesus what a suckish one. God. Slap me.

I'll just go write some more now. Something... uh, not so depressing.


	5. 45 ! HEART SONG

**THOD - **I'm being a retarded updater~ And oh Gosh, I'm so terrified of disappointing and failure that this took ages. Yet, with a few shots of confidence I'm going to post this! And yes, I do have a phobia of disappointing.

But I'll give it a shot.

Anyway, Alice Kohn belongs to _Ace Please _and dammit I'm sorry if I messed up!

This kind of evolved into a twenty chapter long fiction in my head, but I really couldn't do that, so this was made. I kind of imagine it as a love drama or something, and if you look really hard, you'll find hints towards Style. But look REALLY hard.

Ugh, I'll shut up.

* * *

**_45 - HEART SONG_**

Alice Kohn.

That's her name.

Kyle had been watching her from afar, silently observing her as she scurried around Tweak's Coffee House and cleaned the numerous tables. Every time he tried to talk to her something – something _pointless, _mostly – came in the way, ripping one of them away.

Always.

So he watched. And tried to start up a conversation every now and then, wanting to find out more about her and look less like a maniac stalker. But even that seemed like an impossible task.

Simply because it never worked.

"You've been watching her for ages now, dude," Stan said, barely glancing up from his book, "Talk to her,"

"I've tried," Kyle racked a hand through his hair, which had morphed itself into straight, thin hair over time, "Something always fails,"

"She's a medicine student," Stan flipped the page of his book, his voice oozing of fake interest, "You two got to have _something_ to talk about. Y'know, smart stuff and all,"

"She's a medicine student? How do you know?" Kyle frowned down at his almost empty cup of coffee and spared a glance towards the energetic barista that refused to leave his mind.

Even when she was fighting with a particularly stubborn stain on a table far from them she looked perfect. Thin eyebrows narrowed as she scrubbed at that same spot she'd been scrubbing at for the last five minutes furiously. Her frustration was painfully obvious, yet it only made her cuter. And it made Kyle want to kick every table clean to see her smile.

After all, she was twice as pretty when she smiled.

"Kenny told me," Stan shrugged, "Apparently he'd heard it from some nurses or something before he died... I can't really remember. But he turned it into something that belongs in a Playboy magazine,"

"Everything Kenny says belongs in a Playboy magazine," Kyle grumbled, dropping his spoon nosily on the polished table and making a face.

"Just go up there," Stan glanced up and even though his voice was dripping with annoyance, yet his eyes clearly showed how much it disturbed him, "And order another coffee. Then talk to her. You're being annoying,"

Not that Kyle actually looked close enough to see that his insane crush was upsetting his best friend.

"Says you," Kyle kicked the foot of the table with a converse clad shoe, wearing the same frown he'd been wearing all day.

"You want me to freaking do it for you?" Stan was the one making a face this time, "You're being _ridiculous_,"

"Alright, alright," Kyle raised his hands in defeat and cast the counter an unsure look, but got up when Stan raised his book threateningly.

Stan does not care about your pointless excuses.

Kyle lingered a few seconds longer than needed by the table, staring at the floor as if it would eat him. The clean, bright tiles of the floor appeared to scream at him as he stepped on them, pointing out every little imperfection about him. Shoved his self-confidence further into his shoes and made him more and more unsure.

What if his pants were dirty?

His hair looked weird?

He slipped and made a fool of himself?

The dark colors of her uniform contrasted greatly with the bright wall behind her, making her stand out even more from the norm. It was practically impossible to ignore her as she moved around some of the pastries from behind the polished glass that separated cakes from costumers.

He could see the color of her eyes from where he was now. And it scared him. Because it meant that it was only a few more steps left. Even those small details about her hair was obvious now. Like how her hair gained a deep shade of blue under the sharp lights of the coffee house, which blended in nicely with the usual black color of her thick, choppy hair.

It suited her. A lot.

"Hi again,"

Her voice snapped him out of his musings, throwing him back to earth like one throws a brick through a window.

With a loud, echoing crash.

"Oh... eh, hi," Kyle rubbed his neck awkwardly, "I'm..." he trailed off, her playful grin distracting him immensely, "I'm... out of coffee," he finished lamely.

"Alright," Alice paused expectantly, waiting for him to tell her _what _he wanted.

She's wasn't a freaking psychic, after all.

"Uh..." Kyle opened and closed his mouth again, shaking his head slightly to rid of the haze covering his mind, "A... americano," he finally said, grinning weakly as he mentally beat himself up for acting like a freaking stalker-fool.

"Coming right up!" she chirped and disappeared into the back room.

Immediately, Kyle swore loudly and slapped his forehead and glaring down at the counter, grimacing down at his reflection. His own dull, green eyes glared back at him, laughing at him for being silly again.

School? No problem.

Saving the world from Cartman... or something equally idiotic? Pssht, big deal.

Talk to the girl you've got a crush on?

Aw, no way, man.

It seemed like only seconds had passed as Alice returned with a few clean cups, flashing him a brilliant smile as she placed one of the cups under a fancy-looking machine. She pressed a few buttons quickly and easily, obviously knowing what she was doing and nodding to herself as the machine came to life.

Everything she did seemed so incredibly simple.

"So," she turned to him as the machine did it's slow magic, "You want anything with that coffee?"

"I-I'm not sure," Kyle paused to clear his throat, "But I think I've got all I need," he said, grinning the best he could.

"Then it'll be two dollars, please," Alice said easily, glancing briefly towards the still working coffee machine, "What are you studying over there?"

Kyle blinked and did a mental victory dance, positively beaming at the start of a normal conversation, "Oh, I'm not the one studying, I'm just helping," he answered smoothly, a little proud of himself for sounding so incredibly calm.

Because he honestly wasn't.

"Aha, well, what's he studying, then?" she asked, leaning her elbows on the shiny surface of the counter.

In a desperate attempt at distracting himself Kyle fixed his eyes on the working coffee machine, trying to figure out what the buttons did. His brain needed a few seconds to compose itself, was all. And was that clear stuff it was spewing into the cup – soon to be his cup – was water or something else?

But nothing calmed his nerves. Or made anything better.

Biting his lip slightly Kyle forced a shaky smile onto his face, hoping he didn't look like a complete fool where he stood.

"Science," Kyle said shortly and shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and glancing towards Stan over his shoulder, noticing how his friend was at the verge of cracking up.

Still trying to look as cool as possible, Kyle swallowed the lump in his throat, his hands clenched in his pockets as he tried to ignore the odd noises Stan kept making from across the room.

"Cool," Alice frowned and sent the coffee machine behind her a look as made a few complaining noises, "Oh man, not again,"

Kyle's nerves dissolved like a hand under acid, turning into worry and curiosity. The machine had stopped spewing liquid by now and had settled for simply beeping threateningly.

A single word flashed on the display screen.

_'WARNING'_

"Huh?" Kyle furrowed his eyebrows as Alice had disappeared and reappeared in less than seconds.

She sat on the floor, messing around with a nearly invisible cluster of cables, glancing towards the beeping coffee machine warily as she pulled one out of the wall.

The machine instantly died.

Kyle leaned over the counter and peeked down at her as she sat up, her brown eyes glaring at the innocent-looking cable in her hand. The few other people in the shop had turned to look, but no one seemed to mind.

They just turned back to their coffee and cake, either staring obsessively at a book... or a computer.

* * *

The two teens stared awkwardly at the cable as silence covered the room once again, both of them waiting for something to happen.

But nothing happened. Everything was silent, the machine had died completely and everything was quite so normal.

Quite so dull.

"It does that," Alice piped up, grimacing, "If you don't kill it quickly it'll spew coffee all over the floor,"

"That sucks," Kyle slipped around the counter and extended a hand to the still sitting girl, grinning lightly.

With a moments doubt, she took the offered hand and he hoisted her to her feet again, both hurriedly letting go of the others hand as two faint, identical blushed grew on their faces.

"Aren't they going to change it?" Kyle asked, standing right in the middle of the space separating the barista area and the rest of the shop.

"Yeah, but the new one hasn't arrived yet," Alice dropped the cable and crinkled her nose as a dull thud rang through the room, "Seems like your coffee isn't even finished. Anything else that could interest you?"

"Plain coffee?"

"Sure," Alice grabbed the half-full cup from the machine and grinned, "I'll come over to you with it when it's done, alright? Go back to your laughing friend, now," she said with a teasing smirk, once again disappearing through the plain white door hidden behind the cake display.

Cakes are, after all, the most amazing way of hiding things.

And they had done a splendid job as camouflage.

Really.

"Uh, yeah," Kyle scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared at the empty spot in front of him, simply standing there.

"Dude. You talking to yourself now?" Stan called, breaking into laughter as Kyle flashed him his middle finger, not very pleased at all.

He shook his head and slipped around the counter, expertly covering a blush as he marched across the shiny floor, looking a lot like an offended child.

"That went well," Stan said as he looked up from his book again, ignoring the scowl on Kyle's face as the redhead dumped himself in his seat.

"It didn't,"

"It did," Stan flipped the page idly, raising an eyebrow as he found a more complicated chapter of his book, "Seriously. Everyone but you can see it,"

"What, I'm suddenly blind?" Kyle asked, grabbing the Science book from Stan and shoving it aside.

"Obviously," Stan rolled his eyes and put a hand to his jaw in fake shock, doing a terrible impression of the typical, stereotype teenage gossiper, "No way, you didn't know?! Like, everyone totally knows that!"

Kyle snickered silently, "Aw, lookit that, I always knew you were a little girly,"

"Oh shut it," Stan said as he aimed a halfhearted kick at Kyle under the table, both of them wearing matching grins.

One was fake.

Can you guess which one?

* * *

**THOD - **Auuugh, now this one... wasn't as good as I'd like it to be. Seriously.

Tell me what I can do better? Critique? Anything?! Dx Ugh!

Durr! Read and review! : D

Five requests per person! I'll write anything!


	6. 47 ! PERFECTION

**THOD - **Of course I haven't forgotten about these! There's more of them being worked on, so please be patient with me.

Also, my brother's wife - one of my best friends - got rushed to the hospital today with intense pains and is most likely in surgery by now. Hence why I'm letting myself take a very, very small break from LOSeRS to get out some distress here. And I'm trying out a new way of writing for once, so please tell me if you like it or not.

And the requested one-shots in here are being worked on, I'm just terribly slow. Dx

* * *

**_47 - PERFECTION_**

Nicholas sighed heavily and pulled his cold jacket closer, head bowed shamefully as he walked the streets of South Park in the pouring rain, just like every other night. His shoulder was screaming at him for being cocky on the race-track again, specially since he was bruised enough as it was, just like his neck was groaning every time he moved his head.

No matter how many times he crashed and burned, Nick never managed to put out the fire he left behind. He threw himself into the crackling fire, trying to keep it from burning the people he loved, but it always grew despite his efforts of tearing himself to shreds to please them and keep them safe. It was so typical, so ironic it pained him to think about it.

His dirty, worn shoes were already taking in water as he kept splashing through puddles, his hands shaking from the cold but he refused to go back. He couldn't stand being in the apartment, getting his head slammed into walls and being chocked for entertainment. Specially not for the entertainment of a rapist. Simply the thought of his cousin made him cringe, made him want to run and hide, those hating dark eyes making him feel like a bug that needed to be killed.

He didn't need that man. No, what he needed was _her. _He'd been looking at her, hoping and sighing in sleep all because of her. She was perfect in every way, a work of art. But he was Nicholas Acqua, he never was that lucky. Such a piece of perfection had a boyfriend, a boyfriend that was about as perfect as she was.

Not counting the bad habit of flipping people off, that is. Everyone knew they were the perfect couple. And the perfect boy didn't even know he was holding the other half of Nick's cracked heart. Nor cared that he did.

Even when you'd been hurt over and over again, it never actually stopped hurting. The soap doesn't sting less the next time you get in in your eyes, just like you won't be less heartbroken the next time you're thrown away like a piece of used paper. He was sure his perfect girl didn't feel like that.

"I fucking hate you!"

Nick stopped at the sound of his perfect girl's voice coming out of nowhere, staring up at the house of the perfect boy with Curiosity and Worry standing on each of his shoulders, making him wonder even more why his perfect girl sounded so angry.

Wincing as the sound of something precious breaking Nick backed up a step, stepping out of the illuminating street-light and into the shadows, watching the small house as if it was a cartoon. His perfect girl screamed again, curses and swears, the perfect boy yelling back in anger.

The door slammed open and his perfect girl stormed out, tears of anger or sadness running down her cheeks as she yelled a final insult and threw the door shut, the rain seeping through her thin clothes and dripping from her perfect hair as she entered the curtain of dripping water.

"What a fucking douche," she kicked a rock angrily, glaring down at the ground as if it could fix her problems, "How could he?"

Nick watched his perfect girl from the shadows, Worry and Curiosity still standing on his shoulders, both urging him to go over to her and reveal himself as the pathetic eavesdropper he'd been. Even Anger, sitting on the top of his soaked hair was fuming, telling him to go over.

His perfect girl was look around hopelessly in the dark now, hugging herself and looking more like a drowned cat than the lively girl he was so used to see. He couldn't stop himself from thinking she'd never been more beautiful.

"Are you alright?" Nick asked as he stepped back into the light, barely seeing anything from behind his wet hair, "You're soaked,"

"Oh, Nick," she smiled despite her situation, making his heart flutter to life, "What are you doing here? And I-I'm... eh," her face seemed to fall for a split second, "Yeah,"

"I always walk past here at night," Nick replied casually, daring himself to walk closer to his perfect girl, "But what are _you _doing here?"

"I was supposed to..." she trailed off, shrugging, "You know what? I have no idea," she crossed her arms, a spark of annoyance lighting up in her brown eyes as she glared up at the house.

The rain kept drumming against the roofs of all the houses, echoing all around them as they strayed into silence, neither finding any words worth saying.

Worry once again made itself known, poking his shoulder and whispering it's concerns into his ear. The quiet voice kept dripping reasons to go over and find out once and for all what was going on into his head, filling it with puddles of paranoid worries. Worry surely excelled at it job, for nothing could light up such a constant concern in him like Worry.

He took a hesitant step closer, "You completely sure you're okay?" he asked silently, not daring to speak too loud for reasons he couldn't quite grasp.

"I'm fine," she smiled again, before letting her eyes run over his clothes, "Aren't you cold?" she asked, a little Worry sitting on her shoulder as well, whispering it's sweet words.

"A bit," Nick admitted, laughing lightly, "But anything is better than being home,"

Anger sneered on top of his head, crossing it's little arm and huffing in badly-hidden annoyance.

"_Bastard,_" Anger squeaked, "_Go beat that asshole up!_"

Nick barely raised an eyebrow at the most horrible suggestion, choosing to ignore the little grouchy gnome on his head and going with a much more reasonable request from sweet Worry on his shoulder.

"Here," Nick took off his rain-jacket and handed it to his perfect girl, gritting his teeth as the rain instantly soaked his t-shirt and drenched the only place on him that had been reasonably dry.

His perfect girl was about to refuse, but Nick simply shook his head and draped the jacket over her shoulders, trying not to look at his shaking hands as he did so. She smiled softly and pulled the jacket closer around her, the small, ever-hidden spark of Love she'd ignored for so long throwing itself at her and snuggling up under the jacket on her shoulders, laughing merrily.

"_He's so sweet,_" Love sighed dreamily and shifted on the perfect girl's shoulder, "_Why didn't you choose him instead? I told you to choose him,_"

The perfect girl knew, but she also knew that her chance was lost. Everyone was completely sure he was going out with Stan Marsh's older sister, Shelley, by the way they'd been seen together so often, and she was sure she couldn't compete with the older girl. She paid a high price for ignoring Love's advice that day, the day she decided to give Craig Tucker a chance.

"I should probably be getting home," she laughed, a bitter tinge in her usually so pleasant laughter, "But Nick... thank you,"

"You shouldn't be walking around alone now," Nick rubbed his neck, a bit unsure if he should keep listening to Worry as it refused to stop talking, "Come on, I'll walk you,"

The perfect girl's heart leaped and Love cheered, partly muffled by the light rain-jacket, "Yeah," she felt her cheeks burn ever-so slightly as she walked beside him, his hand barely centimeters from hers. Bruised, thin wrists and shaking hands, scars running up and down his arms like spiderwebs, trying to tell whatever story were mapped out on the pale arms.

He was the mystery she so desperately wanted to figure out, but the answers were locked away, the key in another hand and another person.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked as her Worry kept complaining, "Your hands are shaking,"

"They are, aren't they?" Nick asked airily, shrugging, "Nothing to worry about," he glanced over at her, grinning to himself as she had that small smile painted onto her face.

The perfect girl grabbed his hand, holding it between her own two carefully and met his glance with one of her own. His hand burned as she held it, the creeping warmth trickling up his arm and sending teasing chills down his spine.

"You live here, don't you?" Nick asked, staring up at the house as she nodded, pulling him along towards the door.

"Come on, you need to dry off," she said, abiding by her Worry's suggestion, Love agreeing fully at the ideas Worry was rapidly putting to life.

"Don't worry about me," Nick protested halfheartedly, letting himself get pulled into the dark hallway and pushed further into the house, not quite in the mood to argue with the perfect girl.

The door shut silently behind him as he tripped out of his shoes, his perfect girl instantly there and pushed him along into the living-room. Despite her looks, she was far from undetermined. The perfect girl shoved him down on the couch and grinned in satisfaction and a tinge of pride, hands on her hips as Love on her shoulder kept whispering ideas of everything and nothing.

"Just stay here and I'll find you a towel and some dry clothes," she said, hurrying out of the room and into the first-floor bathroom.

Nick was left sitting on the couch awkwardly, fiddling with a loose thread hanging off his t-shirt, desperately trying to keep his hands from shaking. Butterflies or worms – he wasn't sure what it might be – was making his stomach to flips, Nervous crawling out of his pocket and onto his knee.

"_This is a..._" Nervous trailed off, "_Nice place,_"

Nick nodded to himself, agreeing with what the little gnome was saying. Never having been invited over to anyone but Shelley, Nick wasn't quite sure what to do. Then again, Shelley only ever invited him over so he could have something to eat. Food was the only reason they even knew each other.

"Here you go," The perfect girl said with a small smile, handing him a towel and a change of clothes, "It was all I could find," she admitted, a sheepish smile on her face as she sat down beside him, a dark green towel slung over her shoulders.

"It's great," Nick stared wistfully at the clothes, Anger patting his head comfortingly as the perfect girl gave him a concerned glance.

"What's wrong?" she asked, "You seem so... sad," she continued, furrowing her eyebrows slightly.

Worry on her shoulder wept to itself, seeing the tried and restless Sadness now sitting in his hands, sobbing quietly to itself.

"Nothing," Nick lied through his teeth, "I just... Thank you," he finally said as his perfect girl reached out and grabbed the towel, drying off some water running down his chin from his hair.

"You're dripping water," she said with a mild frown, starting to dry his hair when she realized he wasn't going to, "But I've been meaning to ask," she started, feeling her heart stop as he turned his head slightly to look at her.

"Yeah?"

"W-where you got this huge bruise," she finished, nodding towards the bruise wrapping itself around his shoulder and snaking up around his neck like it was trying to choke him, "It looks painful," she added softly, Worry once again making itself known by clinging to her hair and leaning over to get a better look.

"I..." Nick paused, unsure if he should even tell the truth and make her soft, caring glances turn into looks of pity, "I fell," he felt Sadness in his hands break into hysteric sobs, mirroring how it pained him to lie whenever someone asked why he was always covered in bruises and cuts.

"Oh," she felt Suspicion tug at the bottom of her shirt, "How did you manage such a big bruise? Must have been a nasty fall," she said quietly, seemingly focused on getting his soaked hair dry.

"I just..." he struggled to find a proper excuse, knowing that only half that injury came from his earlier crash, "... I don't know," he admitted with a defeated sigh, Worry on his shoulder giving him a rather sympathetic look.

And Sadness in his hands wept quietly, a mixture of hopeless and sad tears.

"What do you mean?" She asked, pausing her work and putting one of her hands on his still trembling ones, "Won't you tell me, please?"

Abruptly, he stood, the towel falling onto the couch as the clothes in his hands fell to the floor. The different thoughts raced through his mind as the perfect girl looked at him in confusion.

"I should go," Nick said dully, "I... well, thank you for everything," he added, refusing to meet her searching eyes.

"But-"

"I'll see you some other time," he cut her off, Love on her shoulder watching in desperation as he walked off into the hallway.

She heard the door shut a moment later, Worry and Love exchanging looks of defeat and concern as she glanced down at the clothes on the floor.

Guilt crawled up Nick's back as he once again welcomed the familiar rain, knowing he'd let his only chance on the perfect girl go. The darkness floated out of the numerous alleys and building behind him, dim lights from the street-lights barely managing to light up the road in front of him. Sadness clung to his shoulder, staring idly out into the rain, slowly morphing into the shape of Depression.

Once again, he had fled the things he wanted to return to what he loathed, yet he so desperately needed it. Each hit he took at home made the walls he'd built around him gain a brick, but he still came crawling back to his cousin's waiting fist.

And with every hit he took, he slid further away from his perfect girl, knowing he could never be perfect enough for her.

"_But you have me,_" Depression whispered, "_You have the rain, the hurt and your dirt, is that not enough?_"

Nick knew it was not, but nodded, "It's more than I deserve,"

"_How right you are,_" Depression dared itself a poisonous smile, "_You deserve no such thing, sweet Nicholas... for you are not perfect,_"

* * *

**THOD - **Uh, yeah. I guess we'll never know who the perfect girl was, but if you think you know, PM me. Whoever guesses right will win a 3-chapter short story, total of 6000+ words.

Read&review&request!


	7. 91 ! A PLACE TO BELONG

**THOD - **Wootwoot, people! More one-shots, all steamin' and ready. And that was pretty much the stupidest thing I've said all day, and I've done and said a lot of stupid stuff today. D: Anyway, there's the typical things of me here like horses and repetition of idiotic words, so beware! This pairing was requested by _Noodle311, _so I hope I didn't fail too much. D:

_Lloyd McCarthy _belongs to _Noodle311. Kathleen Dear _belongs to me. Oh, and the fact that someone even wanted something with my OC's kind of made me laugh out loud with insane happiness, so my mum is even more sure I'm nuts now after randomly bursting out into laughter. YAY! And this kind of failed as an OC/OC thing, but I like to imply things. It's fun.

Keeps ya'll on the edge of your seats. Heh. Oh, and YES, of course, there is a secret meaning behind this like with everything else. Mostly cause there was no other way for me to live through writing... well, anything. I'm absolutely incapable of writing something without a hidden meaning. But at least here there's nothing insanely important hiding, so don't worry! And you'll all get it when LOSeRS is finished, anyway.

Heck, you probably won't even notice it's here.

* * *

_**91 - A PLACE TO BELONG**_

"_If you ever need anything, let me know. Even if it's the middle of the night. I promise I'll be there. You just... kind of belong here. With me," _

The words rang through her head as Kate stumbled through the streets, her shoes slipping constantly on the thin sheet of ice covering the worn asphalt. She wasn't sure what time it was, or even why she was walking in the middle of the road so late, but she found it increasingly hard to think through the light fog of pain surrounding her mind after the hard fall of the horse she'd trained with barely three hours ago. Not that she'd really taken that hard of a hit, but combined with eating no more than a bowl of cereal at nine in the morning, that fog of confusing kept growing.

After her second fall because of utter exhaustion she'd called it a night, never having realized she'd been on the track for almost eight hours straight. Which meant her mother had left on her date, the spare key laying in her backpack as usual, which was laying around somewhere in her room. Which was locked _inside _her house.

How Kate loved being a messy person. So without a phone, without money and nothing more than the clothes on her back and a helmet, she was left wandering. It surely wasn't the first time, but this time Kate knew she couldn't sneak off to Hedgehog's or Nick's homes. For several reasons. Not that she wanted to think of any of them. She just had a feeling they were busy.

But she wasn't worried. A bit disoriented after her head hitting the ground at over 50 kilometers an hour, but Kate knew there was one person she could always trust. And, luck being on her side for once, he wasn't away with one of those musicals he worked with. She'd never really understood musicals, but then again, keeping Kate interested for a long time was quite difficult. Musicals were for patient people, not impatient, borderline ADHD ones.

With every house she passed, she had to remind herself how far it was left, the darkness making it quite hard to tell the difference between the houses. Her focus kept drifting, throwing away all thought of where she was and what she was doing there. She even kept surprising herself with her logical, non-confusing answers.

Surely she'd lost her mind by now.

After her mother had made them move to a cheaper house in a worse part of town, Kate continuously got lost. But relief wasn't all that far away, she thought cheerfully as she saw her old house, now abandoned and quite scary, smiling back at her from the neighborhood she knew as her own. Turning on the corner she instantly saw the house she'd been searching for peeking out from behind her old one, the lights reaching out for her and waving like an old friend as she neared it.

If she wasn't so tired, she could cry of joy.

Straightening her back slightly and ignoring the biting chill, she tossed away her prickling nerves and walked up to the front door, hoping she didn't look too disgruntled after her slightly unlucky day. Taking a final, deep breath she knocked and took a step back, anxiously listening for any sounds from inside.

A few seconds later, the petite face of Laura McCarthy showed up, the younger girl furrowing her eyebrows as she caught sight of Kate's sand-covered clothing.

"Why are you here in the middle of the night?" Laura asked bluntly, the shyness she was so buried in when they'd first med having gradually washed away over the years they'd known each other.

"I-I..." Kate grinned sheepishly, "I was wondering if... eh, Lloyd was here?"

Despite knowing that he wasn't leaving again for another two weeks, Kate knew her info often failed her. It surely wouldn't be the first time her sources disappointed her.

"Yeah... uh," Laura glanced towards her slightly bleeding elbow briefly, "I'll go get him. Just come on in,"

Laura gave her a final look and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Kate standing awkwardly in the hallway, toying with the chin-strap of her helmet. The chills from having walked around the streets in nothing but a t-shirt was starting to crawl away, her skin tingling from the heat in the room. She sighed, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes, her knees threatening to give out as she finally noticed how tried she was. Walking simply wasn't her game, easy as that.

"Kate?"

Eyes snapping open she pushed herself away from the wall, blushing slightly as the familiar blue eyes watched her with mild curiosity and worry.

"Oh, hi," Kate rubbed her neck awkwardly, "I... well, do you remember that promise you made three years ago in Norway?"

"Hmm, yeah," Lloyd nodded, furrowing his eyebrows slightly at the quite random question, "Why? Something happened?"

"Kind of," Kate sighed and shifted her weight uncomfortably, "I've got nowhere to go for the night," she admitted quietly, "And... I just..."

"Sure,"

"Really?" Kate grinned automatically, launching herself at the unfortunate Lloyd, tackling him into a rather sandy hug.

Lloyd laughed lightly and brushed some sand off the back of Kate's shirt idly, hugging her back without a second thought, "I wouldn't have promised it if I didn't mean it, you know,"

Kate bit back the relieved tears, burying her face in his shoulder and clutching the back of his shirt hopelessly. She hadn't truly realized how much she needed someone to rely on, someone to cling to before that moment. And it surely hadn't occurred to her that she might have had that person lingering in the background all the time.

"You're sure that's all?" Lloyd pulled away slightly, surveying the worn clothing and the several, small injuries covered in sand.

"Eh, if you had a band-aid, that be nice," Kate grimaced, rubbing her neck sheepishly, "I took a hit or two today,"

Lloyd gave her a half-amused look, "Doesn't surprise me. C'mon," he placed a hand on her back, lightly pushing her towards the stairs, "I think you'll need more than just a band-aid for that,"

"Nonsense," Kate waved it off with a silly grin, "Just a few scratches, nothing to worry about," she quickly stepped out of her shoes and let herself be lead towards the stairs.

"With all that dust and sand in it, it is something to worry about," Lloyd argued, "You look like a wandering pile of sand, if you didn't know,"

"Is it really that bad?" Kate grimaced, inspecting her hand critically, finding grains of sand lodged under her nails and in a few small cuts snaking up her arm, "I didn't really notice,"

"I'll see if I can find a change of clothes for you," Lloyd said, nudging her towards the bathroom as they reached the top of the stairs, "Try to get most of the sand off and I'll be right there,"

Kate smiled gratefully and entered the brightly-lit bathroom, carefully putting her helmet on a shelf and glancing towards the mirror briefly. And wasn't very pleased with what she saw. A laughing bruise on her jaw, a sand-filled cut on her neck and more sand coating everything. Sand, sand and more sand.

"I guess this is punishment for trying to be helpful and train horses on the sand-track," she muttered, finally understanding why only the newbies were left with Joan Red's new training method for training the horses' stamina.

When you fell, you'd be tasting sand for the next fifteen weeks. And Kate had been stupid enough to think she wouldn't fall on the rough, unforgiving small sand-track.

Wincing, Kate tried to twist the shirt off her sore shoulder and pull it off, the fabric scraping the sand in the wound on her elbow along painfully. She discarded the shirt with an annoyed hiss, glaring at the innocent, sandy light brown shirt with that stupid _'South Park Racing'_ logo stitched onto the back.

She hadn't realized how long she'd been staring at the discarded shirt before a soft knock slapped Kate out of her racing-obsessed mind and she turned on her heel instantly, blinking owlishly as Lloyd opened the door, a bundle of clothes in his arms.

"I couldn't -" he cut himself off mid-sentence, Kate still blinking stupidly as the two stared somewhat awkwardly at each-other.

Kate wasn't quite sure how to react to the fact that she wasn't wearing much more than a bra and pants, but she couldn't quite grasp why she should react. Because for some reason, it didn't feel odd. It wasn't _wrong, _it simply was.

"... you couldn't?" Kate asked softly, breaking the silence, careful not to break the fine layer of sparks shooting through the air, sending somewhat comfortable chills down her spine.

"Couldn't find any other clothes," he blurted out, putting the clothes beside the sink and stealing another glance at her, "Eh, I was going to ask if you need any help... cleaning those cuts?"

"Sure," Kate ran a hand through her hair nervously as he shut the door, the obvious tension swirling in the room attaching itself onto her already troubled mind.

"You have a..." he motioned towards her chest, "I..."

Kate laughed lightly, "Don't worry. I can fix the scratches myself, you know, if you don't want to," she smiled lightly, turning to face her reflection again, giving it a mildly displeased look.

"That's not it," Lloyd quickly interrupted, shaking his head, "Just wondering if you'd... want me to leave those on your ribs or..." he trailed off, finding it harder than usual to find the words he needed.

"Oh, I don't mind either way," Kate shrugged carelessly, brushing some of the clingy sand off her shoulder and flinching as she found another sore spot.

"What the heck have you been doing?" Lloyd asked, switching the subject to something more casual as he opened one of the drawers under the sink, pulling out a few pieces of cotton and quickly washing his hands before soaking the cotton, frowning slightly.

"I've been working," Kate said dully as he chose a random cut on her shoulder, cleaning it off with the soggy cotton, "I just have a..." she chuckled, "Dangerous job, I guess,"

"I've noticed," he kept trying to get all the troublesome sand out of the irritated scrape, "All these are from today?"

"I think so," Kate mumbled, running her hands through her hair idly as she watched him clean the cut, "At least I haven't noticed them before,"

"But I though horses raced on dirt and grass and such," Lloyd said, throwing away the used cotton and finding a new, clean one and starting on one of the several other scowling scrapes.

"There are sand-tracks, sure," Kate grimaced, "But there's never so much sand on them. I was riding on the training-track, something our insane trainer filled with shitloads of sand to... eh, 'improve the horses stamina'," Kate pouted, "Idiot trainer,"

Lloyd grinned, obviously amused by Kate's annoyance with her trainer, "But she still gave you a job, didn't she?" he asked, brushing some sand off her shoulder to get a better look at the bruise under it.

"Yah, I guess. And the worst job at the entire stables, too!" Kate whined, "Everyone hates riding the sand track, since you get this covered in sand if you're unlucky enough to fall off. I'll be a walking sand-pile forever,"

"Sure you ain't," Lloyd glanced up at her, "It's just sand. It haven't got much to stand up with against my awesome forces of sand-repelling,"

"Awesome forces of sand-repelling?" Kate echoed, grinning, "Sounds great," she mused, patiently working on getting sand out of her hair as she left the injuries to him, never doubting his abilities for even a second.

She couldn't explain that feeling, either, but it simply _was_.

"You'll see," Lloyd kept brushing away sand and cleaning off the random scrapes, "But maybe you should take a shower, just to be on the safe side,"

Kate laughed quietly, "So, sand-repelling not completely perfected yet, you say?"

"Possibly," Lloyd grinned, blue eyes laughing along with her as another piece of cotton disappeared into the trash.

"You're sure it's okay I stay?" Kate asked airily, "I mean, I'm sure I can pester Craig into letting me stay, but-"

"It's completely fine," Lloyd assured her, pausing what he was doing and leaning against the sink, looking down on Kate from his slight advantage in height.

"I worry too much, don't I?" Kate asked, sighing and rubbing her shoulder, "Dammit,"

"It's actually... nice," Lloyd said with a light grin, giving the mirror beside him a glance, "I'm honestly kind of of glad you came here,"

"Really?" Kate watched him curiously, "Why?"

"I like having you around," he paused briefly, "You're always so... full of inspiration," he once again found it hard to find the words to express what he said in his head, like a constant fog clouding the perfect sentence hidden somewhere in his mind. He knew what to say, he knew it all, but he just couldn't do it.

If only a kind breeze would push it away and finish what he tried to explain to her.

"Full of inspiration?" Kate mused, once again echoing his words, "Full of idiotic thoughts and failure, sure, but I can't quite see how that's inspiration," she laughed, talking badly about herself feeling completely natural after a few years of listening to the critical words of others.

Lloyd frowned, "Whoever told you that must be blind," he watched her closely as she shrugged, the hopelessness shining through whatever careless mask she put on, "Everyone's an idiot, everyone's a failure. The people that don't let themselves be stopped by knowing it are the ones worth noticing... like you,"

Kate made to argue, a defensive edge to her halfhearted glare, but she was cut off before she even got to begin.

"You risk your life simply to do what you want. You aren't afraid to let others know you need help and you mostly chose to do the most logical thing, just like you did by coming here," he saw her shoulders drop slightly, "A stupid person would've refused help. And a failure wouldn't be out there in the first place. See my logic?"

"I... guess," Kate allowed herself a grin and shook her head, "Maybe I'm just too tired for logic,"

"Probably," Lloyd grinned and picked up another piece of soaked cotton, "But you're still not sand-free, are you?"

Kate rolled her eyes and held out her battered elbow for him to fix up, "Alright, alright, I see your point,"

"Good," he grabbed her elbow carefully, giving her a somewhat wicked grin, "Oh, and nice tattoo,"

Kate blushed hotly, glancing down at herself and cursing, "Don't mock Batman, dammit!"

"Definitively won't," Lloyd said, hiding the amused smile threatening to show, "It's... eh, nice,"

"One more word and I swear you'll regret it,"

"Shutting up now,"

* * *

**THOD - **Yep, I have no idea what I'm doing. Punch me, hit me and be mad! But I still had fun writing it! xD

Read&review&request!


	8. 26 ! FOREVER AND A DAY

**THOD - **Well, I couldn't help making this after watching a truly moving film last night. So here, absolutely 100% inspired and very related to _Christiane F - Wir Kinder vom Bahnhof Zoo, _I give you this. Another one shot filled with twists and snaps.

_Christy Morejon _belongs to _ChristyWinchester101. _Though, note that she's only used as a 'semi-side-character' (whatever that means), so this has nothing to do with the one-shot she requested. That's still coming up, just so ya'll know it. However, like the summary says, when submitting a character, you're allowing me to use it in any one-shot I want. Here's pretty much the first example of this.

_Laura & Lloyd McCarthy _belongs to _Noodle311._ Also making a brief appearance as side-characters.

**Please note** that there are **drug use** and cursing used here, so don't say I didn't warn you. Also, this is set in Berlin somewhere in the 1970's, so just... yeah. It probably means more to me than to anyone else, yet I have no idea why. Translations are at the bottom, though, my German might be flawed. And so might my friends German be, so this is all attempts at German, savvy?

* * *

_**26 - FOREVER AND A DAY**_

"Dammit, Wendy," Nick cursed as he took another shaky breath, making the pale, wide-eyed girl bite her lip nervously, "Don't drop it, _verdammt_!"

"Sorry," she hurried to pick up the needle from the floor, eying him with a mixture of worry and fascination as he tried to keep his own hands from shaking.

His pale, thin hands kept failing to keep the lighter alive as he held it under the old, bent spoon, swearing quietly all the while. Now, Wendy wasn't sure why she asked to come with him to shoot H. Why she'd even want to sit and watch him kill himself slowly when she surely knew the dangers of it. Even less why she had the urge to try it herself. After starting to visit _Stereo _on a regular basis, Wendy had started doing more than one unintelligent thing.

She was almost sure this was just another stupid thing to add to that list.

"Give me the goddamn thing," Nick hissed, never taking his eyes off his trembling hand as he dropped the lighter carelessly on the floor, "_Schnell, _Wendy,"

"_Ja, ja,_" Wendy mumbled, brushing some hair out of her face and handing him the syringe, watching in mild curiosity as the pale, overly skinny boy tried to fix his shot with obvious desperation.

"_Verdammt winzigen Stück Müll,_" Nick muttered as the last of the H disappeared from the spoon's dull surface, Nick handing her the spoon and tapping the syringe carefully. Heavy circles lined the dark, completely focused eyes, the hair hanging in front of his face sticking to the cold-sweat layering his forehead.

Nick was desperate and she knew it. Looking back on it, she wasn't quite sure why she chose that moment to ask such a stupid question.

"I want a shot," Wendy said, frowning and leaning her elbows on the toilet serving as their table, "Will you help me?"

"You'll get hooked," Nick shook his head, eyes never leaving the syringe, "Stick to your trips," he pulled up the sleeve of his jean-jacket, numerous scars slinging down the shaking arm and crossing the outstanding veins, disappearing up under his sleeves.

"Come on," Wendy didn't even register what she was saying, "A small shot. You do it, why can't I?"

"I'm flat broke and live on the streets," Nick said dryly, struggling to tie the scarf around his upper-arm while holding his precious H in his hand, briefly pausing to brush some hair out of his eyes.

"That doesn't mean shit," Wendy snapped, "I bought it, didn't I?"

Nick frowned, wiping some cold-sweat off his forehead with his elbow as he secured the scarf around his arm after much trouble. He glanced towards the clearly offended, younger girl, considering what she said as he flicked the syringe idly. Despite her being four year younger than he was, he also knew he'd been almost three years younger than her when he had his first shot. The arguments lining up against him couldn't be more confusing as he itched for the familiar feelings he knew was jumping around inside the unsanitary syringe.

"Didn't I?" Wendy repeated, some of the anger withering away, "A small shot. _Bitte_, Nick, I can control myself," she kept pushing, noticing he was about to give in as he lowered his hand, giving her a doubtful look.

He shook his head, "I said the same," he shrugged and coughed sickly, grimacing and groaning, "Christy will be here any second. Ask her instead, she'll say the same. Just leave me the hell alone,"

"_Zur Hölle mit Christy_!" Wendy snapped, slamming the side of her fist into the wall, "It's my life, isn't it? Why should you two decide for me?"

The door was pushed open abruptly, interrupting the young girl's ranting, foggy brown eyes surveying the two indifferently, "Only you two would be this noisy,"

Christy shut the door silently and leaned against it, dropping the plastic-bag she'd been carrying beside her thoughtlessly, "Fill me in. Shooting doesn't take this long,"

Nick frowned, "Wendy wants H. And she won't shut the hell up," he said and eyed the plastic-bag, "Got more?"

"Enough for a few days," Christy sat down, taking the needle from Nick's hand and grabbing his arm, pulling it too her roughly, "But this is my last shot. I'm going clean,"

Nick grinned slightly, "That's nice," he leaned his head back as she found a vein she liked and dug the needle into his arm, Nick wincing lightly as Christy emptied the syringe and pulled out the needle with practiced ease.

"Come on," Wendy pressed the issue further, "I paid for that shot, _verdammt, _give me something!"

"_Wenn du darauf bestehen,_" Christy sighed, "But don't say we didn't warn you," she added, running a hand through her long, unruly brown hair.

Wendy glanced over at Nick as he leaned his head against the wall, eyes shut and hair hanging down in front of his face. Despite how tired and plain empty he looked, Wendy once again saw he wasn't fidgeting or trembling like he usually did. They all looked so uncaring, so done with everything. Not caught up in all sorts of trouble, caught up in life itself.

A feeling Wendy longed for and simply needed to keep going along. She wanted to forget about how awkward it was, how she was failing school and how her friends kept sinking further away from a normal life. Not being able to stop thinking was tearing her apart, she was willing to give anything a try. Even more if she was planning to keep going to _Stereo, _which she surely wanted_. _All the kids that was something shot H.

Frequently.

Wendy wasn't sure it was a good thing or not, but she wanted to be one of them.

"_Jawohl,_" Christy reached into the plastic-bag and pulled out her wallet as Wendy kept trying to convince herself it was just one time, "Get the scarf,"

Wendy hesitated and glanced over at Nick, sparks of nervousness bursting to life once again, "How much did he get?"

"Depends," Christy grabbed the spoon from the floor, briefly wiping it off on her shirt, "How many did you buy?"

"_Zwei_," Wendy reached over and grabbed his limp arm, starting to untie the scarf, a task that proved itself harder than she'd thought, "Is that bad?"

"Possibly," Christy pursed her lips, "We'll just... stick around and see what happens," she muttered and handed Wendy the empty needle as Wendy got the scarf loose, "Clean it out,"

"With what?" Wendy furrowed her eyebrows and put the scarf on the floor, staring at the syringe in confusion, "There's nothing to clean it with,"

"_Wasser_, Wendy, there's plenty of it in the damn toilet," Christy rolled her eyes, unwrapping the foil protectively wrapped around the H.

"_Natürlich,_" Wendy sighed and reached up to flush the toilet, cleaning out the blood left in the syringe with the running water clumsily, nearly dropping the syringe more than once, "Where do you get it?"

"I get mine from _Der Maulwurf_," Christy said and pulled out a small bottle of lemon juice and poured a few drops into the spoon, "He doesn't put no strychnine in it,"

"Oh," Wendy nodded, glancing over at Nick briefly, the thin boy still leaning against the wall, not having moved an inch since she'd stolen the scarf, a thin line of blood from the injection running down the limp arm.

"Stir it when I tell you to," Christy said, the lighter flicking to life as she held it up under the spoon and watched the H and lemon juice closely, a light smirk tracing her lips.

"_Jawohl,_" Wendy felt a punch of nervousness as Christy tilted her head and nodding, obviously meaning for Wendy to stir the possibly life-threatening mixture.

Wendy quickly tugged the tip of the needle off and used the tip of the syringe to stir with, remembering what she'd watched Nick do earlier, despite her nervousness increasing by second. The logical side of her was screaming at her to just pass, knowing that she was putting her life in danger for something as stupid as trying to forget how incredibly lethal life was.

Admittedly, she did it more to blend in with the crowds than for whatever reasons she kept telling herself.

"You know," Christy smiled lightly, "You shouldn't. It's not good for you. You think you've got control, but you haven't got anything,"

"Don't lecture me on what I have and haven't," Wendy exclaimed, frustration showing clearly on her face as annoyance struck her and she cleaned off the tip of the syringe sourly, "Everyone that is something does it, it can't be that bad,"

What she refused to add was that everyone else was miserable because of it, most of them flat broke and working as prostitutes or something equally depressing to scrape together money for more H.

"It's not bad in that sense," Christy dropped the lighter as Wendy put the needle and syringe together again, handing it to Christy, "But you'll get hooked,"

"_Sicher,_" Wendy snorted, "It's just this once. I just want to know what all the fuzz is about,"

"Wendy, Wendy, Wendy," Christy laughed shortly and sucked up all the H with the syringe, putting down the spoon and flicking the syringe curiously.

She'd clearly done it before, Wendy thought, since she did it so swiftly, so practiced. As if it was all she'd ever done.

"Come on, Christy," Wendy leaned against the toilet beside her, ignoring the voice in her head screaming for her to stop it, "Help me out here,"

"Just make sure he's breathing first, alright?" Christy sent the passed-out boy in the corner a worried look, "Then I'll do it. I'm kind of sick of kids overdosing and dying down here,"

"He's fine," Wendy brushed it off, shrugging off the comment about kids overdosing and nudging his leg lightly, "Hey, _Narr, aufwachen,_"

The two girls watched with mild worry as Nick remained motionless, nothing indicating he was alive and breathing. Exchanging glances, Wendy nudged his leg again, frowning as she watched closely for any kind of reaction.

"Nick?" Christy handed the syringe to Wendy and leaned closer, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him slightly, "_Aufwachen_!"

"_Fortgehen_," he mumbled, barely bothering to lift his head an inch, giving her an exhausted look as he sighed, "_Was ist das Problem?_"

"Just making sure you're still breathing, _Narr_," Wendy said, frowning, "See, he's fine," she handed the needle back to Christy and rolled up the sleeve of her jacket, "Now help me, _verdammt,_"

"Relax," Christy rubbed her neck as Wendy tried to tie the scarf around her arm, Christy putting the syringe on the floor and helping Wendy fastening the disagreeing scarf, "Let me handle this,"

"_Ja,_" Wendy felt a jolt of hesitation shoot through her, "Be quick,"

"I'm always quick," Christy shot back, inspecting Wendy's arm quickly, trying to find a vein, "Just stop being so tense,"

"I'm not tense," Wendy bit her lip, "Seriously, I'm not," she added as Christy broke through skin with the needle suddenly, drawing a tiny flinch from Wendy.

"Small shot, small shot," Christy injected a small dose of what was in the syringe before pulling the needle back out quickly, "There we go,"

The world seemed to tip over as Wendy leaned back against the wall, taking a few unsteady breaths as the nausea washed over her. Before she even knew she'd moved, she leaned over the toilet and threw up, emptying whatever was left in her stomach from breakfast that morning.

"Not so cheerful now, are we?" Nick chuckled dryly, pushing off the wall slightly and grimacing, "_Scheiße,_ I need to get to work,"

"Can't you wait just a little?" Christy asked as she set the shot in her arm without a second thought, a small smile tugging at her lips when she shut her eyes, "I just..."

"_Verdammt,_" Wendy whimpered, leaning back against the wall and groaning, "That wasn't planned,"

"Of course it wasn't," Christy mumbled, voice coated with drowsiness as she nodded to herself, "We... should go,"

"_Natürlich,_" Nick nodded, staring at nothing as he climbed to his feet with certain difficulty. He frowned, extending a hand to Christy, pulling her to her feet and nearly tipping over himself as Christy grinned weakly.

And there was Wendy – poor Wendy – whom fought to get up, stumbling as numerous feeling blended together into a sea of confusion, threatening to throw her off balance with each step. Nick sighed and shook his head, grabbing one of Wendy's arms and slinging it over his shoulder. Christy picked up their things and opened the door, the three stepping into the dull bathroom, nodding to some of the other teens sitting around, cooking up their own deaths.

No one bothered sparing them a second glance after that as they tripped their way through the bathroom, the music from _Stereo _pulsing through the thick, gray walls. Wendy was leaning heavily on Nick as they tried to weave through the people entering, the yellow 'H' winking down at them as the door shut behind them, a flight of stairs stretching out in front of them.

Wendy couldn't handle it. As Christy started up the stairs with slow, sluggish movements, the other girl passed out over Nick's shoulder. Nick swore as he nearly crashed into the stairs, his knees giving out with the sudden increase of weight hanging over his shoulders.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea," Christy said airily, picking up Wendy's other arm and tugging her along, "We should find Stan. He'll take her,"

"Let's check if Laura's seen him. She's always seen everyone," Nick made a face and somehow twisted his arm to scratch the inside of his wrist as they neared the top of the stairs, scowling as they dragged the unconscious girl to the top with a last push of strength, "_Verdammt, ist mein Handgelenk Juckreiz,_"

"Then scratch your wrist, _Narr_," Christy sighed and dumped Wendy beside the wall, breathing heavily and dropping down beside her, "Have you seen Stan?" she asked the group of smoking teens standing beside them, recognizing one of them as Laura's brother, Lloyd.

"_Ja,_" he shrugged, "He's trying to convince _Der Maulwurf_ to give him some H," he eyed Wendy with a raised eyebrow, an unasked question popping into the smoke-filled air.

"She hit the ground," Nick mumbled, pressing his forehead against the cool wall with a sigh, "_Müde..._"

"You're not the only one," Christy said with a shake of her head, her dirty brown hair falling in her face as she lit up a cigarette, "At least you're not dead,"

"Not far from it," Nick shut his eyes, exhaustion dragging him down, "Wake me up when I am, would you?"

"Sure thing, _Narr,_"

"_Stumme,_"

Christy chuckled, "_Ja, _just shut up, Nick,"

He lifted an eyebrow lazily, "Ain't you eager to run away?"

"Sure am," she laughed, taking a drag of the cigarette, "Sure as hell am..."

* * *

**THOD - **Heh. Yeah, like I said, this one was more for me than for anyone else. A few translations;

_Verdammt = _damn_  
Schnell = _quickly_  
Verdammt winzigen Stück Müll = _damn tiny piece of shit_  
Bitte = _please_  
Zur Hölle mit Christy = _to hell with Christy_  
Wenn du darauf bestehen = _if you insist_  
Jawohl = _alright_  
Zwei = _two_  
Wasser = _water_  
Natürlich = _naturally_  
Der Maulwurf = _The Mole_  
Sicher = _sure_  
Narr = _fool_  
Aufwachen = _wake up_  
Fortgehen = _go away_  
Was ist das Problem = _what's the problem_  
__Scheiße = _shit_  
Verdammt, ist mein Handgelenk Juckreiz = _damn, my wrist itches_  
Müde = _tired_  
Stumme = _dumb girl

And yah, still, this is more for myself than anything. There's prolly loads of mistakes, I'm not pleased with it, but I'm not quite in the mood to care, so here it is anyway. Read&review&request!_  
_


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